


Competency

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen, between the series and the movie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-26
Updated: 2006-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so Simon found himself with the one person he was sure would shoot him for the right price, or if he was bored enough, and a gun big enough to shoot down ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competency

**Author's Note:**

> Funny thing, while the prompt screamed Jayne to me, the muse demanded Simon. Set after my pie story, but in no way reliant upon it.  
> Prompt: The early bird catches pneumonia  
> A/N: My thanks to **agilebrit** for her betaing. She pointed out some logic flaws, which I then fixed, therefore all errors are mine.

"The early bird catches pneumonia," Jayne interjected.

"Actually avians can't catch pneumonia, although they can transmit it and you were just..." Simon's potential lecture was short-circuited as he could feel the weight of his crew-mates glares turn on him.

"That's all kind of interesting, Doc," Mal continued as Simon trailed off, "but back to what I was sayin', early is key to this next job. We've got to get our pieces in play before they know we're there."

"I'm concerned about this meet up, Sir," was Zoe's comment.

"Where's your sense of adventure? Plus no trains, no gorram cattle --why, we don't even need to break a lock."

"No, Sir, merely wait in a public field for a seller we don't know and hope that the law doesn't notice."

Simon watched the conversation bounce back and forth as if he was attending the New Wimbledon Open tennis tournament. It had been a while since they'd had work, but he, too, was worried about this job.

Especially since one of the key points involved him, and a gun.

"Fanty and Mingo have set this up. They've yet to steer us wrong, leastwise not when they've got such a high percentage riding on it. And, before you start up, there will be no dancing."

"To my recollection, Sir, only you seem to get into trouble when you go dancing."

"Thank you, Zoe. We're a few days from planet fall. Jayne, I want you to familiarize the Doc with the ordnance."

Had he mentioned that it was a really big gun? "Um, Mal, I was wondering if Zoe--"

"Zoe has other items to ready. Jayne knows Betsy like the back of his hand. He'll show you what you need to know."

And so he found himself with the one person he was sure would shoot him for the right price, or if he was bored enough, and a gun big enough to shoot down ships.

It was a leaner, and, he felt, a bit meaner, crew since both Shepherd Book and Inara had settled on worlds. They'd visited Haven a few times. He found he'd missed the preacher's company and quiet assurance.

"Don't know why you get to play with Betsy," grumbled Jayne. "She needs a special touch. Look, here's the sighting mechanism, here's the trigger, and no one should need more ammo than she's stacked with."

Jayne turned and looked Simon up and down. "But, since it's you, here's how you reload." He then proceeded to demonstrate what he meant outlining the procedure in little words. Simon gritted his teeth, and watched everything that Jayne was doing. By now he was used to being condescended to by the crew, by this one in particular. Even when Jayne was being sewn up, he'd shown little regard for either Simon or his sister. Jayne finished his explanation with "Dong ma?"

"Fine, fine I understand. Point, wait for Mal's signal then hit this red button like--"

His hand was shoved aside before it could make contact with the button. "Do you want to blow a hole through the hull of the rutting ship? I'm gonna have to ask Mal to rethink this."

Turning away Jayne stomped off muttering "Top three percent, my ass! Probably a class of two."

He had to do this, and do it right. Once upon a time he knew his place in the world and the world had agreed. Medicine had come naturally. The interaction of drugs and disease and the human body was an intricate dance whose steps he could follow and lead. It was a narrow world, but it had been his for the taking. There he was more than competent. There he shone.

But River came first. Simon had thought they'd made a home here on Serenity. After months on the ship, he still hadn't found a location which might be safer for his sister. So they stayed, apparently on Mal's sufferance, and that commodity was running a little thin right now.

Jayne wasn't the only one with doubts about his ability. He'd approached Mal after the meeting, asking why him. The Captain had an easy, but not too reassuring reply, "I'll need the sharp shooters with me, and Wash and Kaylee have to keep the motors running. Now I'm not denying your sister's a dab hand with a gun, but I'm inclined to keep the weaponry pointed away from the crew. This position is critical and there's none but you left to do it."

He couldn't deny logic like that. Looked like paying for their passage would now mean inflicting damage rather than merely healing it. It went against everything he'd been trained for and believed in.

But, it was to keep River safe. For that he could do anything.

The job was a few days away. Days he spent with the gun. Days he spent wandering the corridors of Serenity. He was almost tempted to try the weights that Jayne had set up, but discretion was always the better part of valour in his book. The weights were Jayne's territory, as sure as the engine room was Kaylee's and the cockpit was Wash's. He did not need to be somewhere else on sufferance, not that Jayne had ever exhibited much of that quality. He was awed by the number of weight plates that Jayne was lifting on the long bar. He passed the bench again, glancing as Jayne finished a set.

"Oh for god's sake! Stand still a moment. If you want teachin', just ask. It'll save me maimin' you for the hovering. Plus, might kill ya, there's always hope."

"Jayne," Zoe chastised, "Captain wants him in one piece, you hear?" She then continued to the galley without looking back.

Jayne looked like he was going to reply, but then he seemed to realize it was Zoe, and that she could maim him without breaking a sweat. So he turned his focus back to Simon. "Well are you just going to stand there? Help me take these weights off and we'll start you with thirty," he paused, "make that twenty kilos."

Which is how Simon found himself flat on his back with an iron bar rapidly descending toward his chest.

"Slow there. This here's about control, not speed."

And the weirdest thing of all was the sense Jayne was making.

"We'll start you with five sets of eight reps. No point in warming those muscles if you're not gonna test them."

Simon tried to narrow his focus on the bar in his hands. It was a bit like surgery, you had to let the rest of the world fall away. He controlled his breathing as Jayne instructed. Luckily Jayne was doing the counting, that was one thing he could ignore. His mind gradually calmed, staying on the task. Then, as he felt his arms collapsing, a hand came into his field of vision and blocked the falling bar.

"Same speed down as up; don't pause too long at the tops or bottoms. Now try one more set. Good."

Simon tried not to notice that his spotter had picked up the bar in one hand to secure it. His arms and his chest were tingling with heat, but he felt...accomplished might be the best word for it. Accomplished, and, as he tried to lean on his right arm in order to sit up, very shaky.

"Thank you, Jayne. As long as I don't try to hold anything, I should be fine."

Jayne snorted. "By the way, Doc, pain's always worse the second day."

With that cheery thought, Simon headed to his berth. But even as he lay down, he knew he couldn't settle. This wasn't the first time he'd helped on a caper, but it was only the second time he'd been armed. Even when he'd rescued River, he'd only used non-lethal weapons. It felt a little like before his first time in the O.R., or rather the dreams where he hadn't studied the procedure and the Head of Surgery was there watching him do a simple appendectomy, while he forgot which side the appendix was on. Simon sat up abruptly. Maybe he'd do an inventory of the medical supplies.

**********

Simon could hear the laughter halfway to the galley. As he approached he heard Jayne saying, "And he was huffing and puffin fit to blow a house down, if it twere made of rice paper".

Fantastic. Whole new realms of incompetency. Taking a deep breath he walked through the door and sat at his usual place without pausing, mildly enjoying Mal's and Zoe's efforts to tone down their grins. Jayne, he noticed, didn't even bother.

"How're those arms today?" Mal started to ask.

But Kaylee interrupted with, "Oh, let him alone. I think it's a fine thing to try something new." She had moved beside him and gave him a pat that hit both the biceps and triceps. Then she began to apologize over the others' smothered laughter when he winced. He hadn't expected the pain to flare with contact.

"No, it's fine, really," Simon tried to persuade her, and the crew, that he wasn't sore. It was taking most of his concentration to keep his usual demeanor. Both his parents and the medical school had drilled into him the ethos 'never let them see you weak'. He wouldn't give Jayne that satisfaction. Then Kaylee bumped his right side again.

"Tyen shiao-duh, Kaylee! Be careful!" he snapped at her.

He looked up in time to catch the hurt cross her eyes before she pulled a sunny mask over it. A scent pulled his attention away from Kaylee. He looked down to see that she'd placed a bowl of cut mangos in front of him.

"It's the last of the fruit Shepherd sent with us. It's your share. Didn't want you to miss out. Those couplings need a looking to. Cap't, I'll be in the engine room."

As she beat a hasty retreat, Simon felt a chill in the air. There was a wide latitude of behavior allowed on the ship, much more than the social norms he and River had grown up with, but one thing which guaranteed censure was hurting Kaylee. He'd always been good at following rules. Except, it seemed, that one.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'll go--"

"I think it be best you kept clear awhile. No sense following her to where she keeps her tools. If we didn't need a sixth man, I might offer to help her space the body." With that remark, Mal pushed away from the table and left with his dirty dishes still sitting there. The rest of the crew followed his example. All but River. She tilted her head and gave one of her penetrating looks. Then she walked up to him and smacked his left arm, hard, leaving without further comment.

He looked at his bowl of mangos and sighed. Incompetency ruled again. Was he only fooling himself, as he didn't think he was fooling the crew, that Serenity could be a home? He thought he remembered what competency felt like. Or maybe that world had been the dream. He pushed the bowl away and started cleaning up the dirty dishes.

Greenland was a rocky desolate planet with orange dust and a great public relations department. Betsy had been mounted on the mule, which was hidden in some dry dust-covered bushes on a hill over looking the fairgrounds. The summer celebrations, creatively called the Gathering, were just starting. The Universal Encyclopedia stated that it was a time for trading and matchmaking amongst the denizens of the outlying regions.

In other words, the area was crowded.

If he had to fire, he'd be firing into a mob. They'd chosen this position for its line of sight to the meeting space. He'd been clear with Mal that he didn't think he could shoot at humans. Although not pleased, Mal and Zoe had come up with an alternate plan.

He still hadn't been told what was being exchanged. Mal's military need-to-know philosophy was the reason, or maybe it was just a reflection of the crew's trust in him. It didn't matter. He was here. He'd pull his weight. If Mal gave the signal, pulling out a red handkerchief -- Mal was nothing if not subtle, or maybe he wanted to make sure Simon didn't miss his cue-- he was to aim at the boxes beside them and fire. In the confusion, they would head back to the mule and Serenity would be ready for take-off.

If he didn't get the signal, something he was desperately hoping would occur, the exchange would be clean and simple and again they'd head back to the mule. But, in this case, the Captain might grant leave.

Maybe he could find a gift to apologize to Kaylee. Her first love seemed to be tools, a field he was lost in once they departed from medical accessories. He hadn't even been able to identify a post digger, not that Serenity needed one of those.

Maybe food? She and Jayne had both talked about her mother's pies. After quickly checking that Mal was still waiting for his contact, Simon scanned the variously-colored standards flying around the numerous tents that filled the fairgrounds to see where the baked goods might be. Wasn't that a focal point of rustic fairs, baking contests?

As he spun Betsy on her lazy susan attachment in a semi-circle, focusing on the crowd in front of him, something caught his peripheral vision. Looking closer to the ship, he saw a struggling Kaylee being dragged towards the meeting point by a hulk twice her size.

He didn't think. He sighted the gun and pushed the trigger in one smooth action. He'd tried talking to madmen before and that hadn't helped anyone.

After shaking off the ringing in his ears, he looked to where the man had been standing. Betsy's effects were impressive. The man wasn't there anymore.

Beside the now shrieking and blood splattered Kaylee was merely a red smear on the ground.

He'd killed a man. And, unlike on Niska's station, this time there was no doubt, no hesitation, no misses.

He'd killed to protect Kaylee.

All he wanted to do was to sink to the floor of the mule. To him, it didn't matter how the rest of the job went.

But he was a professional, even if this was not his chosen profession. While part of him wanted to scream with Kaylee, he felt the icy detachment of the operating room descent upon him. He would be competent. He turned the gun back towards the meeting site.

He had a simple job. Look for the red handkerchief.

That was all he could focus on.

He'd worry about the rest later.

A/N: Simon really fought me on this one. Concrit is definitely welcomed.


End file.
